‘It’s a woman’s prerogative to change their mind’.
This quote apparently comes from 1616. This weekend I was reminded sometimes to switch the word ‘woman’s’ to ‘Joe’s’
Joe spent Friday at Little Gate Farm. He came home muddy, tired and happy. However he was not able to tell us much of what he did.
This is certainly not a criticism of Little Gate Farm. The staff and volunteers at the farm are wonderful and they each deserve full recognition for their efforts.
Joe finds it very difficult to explain to others what he has done in a day. We are trying to work on this skill by incorporating it into his ‘returning home task board’. Along with hanging his coat and bag up is the task of telling somebody one thing he has done that day at school/Little Gate Farm.
I am not sure exactly why Joe finds this difficult. It could be that he does not see it as important for other people to know or he finds it unbelievably difficult to retrieve the words in his mind.
Joe decided he needed a shower when he arrived home. It was absolutely imperative.
By all accounts Joe got into the shower and my wife helped him.
I was oblivious to any of this. I was downstairs and was suddenly alerted to a Ned Flanders style squeal. The squeals quickly progressed into screams of “NO STOP!!!!”.
My heart skipped a beat. I ran upstairs half expecting a mix between Ned Flanders and the shower scene from Psycho.
Instead I found Joe obviously regretting his choice of a shower. He had a flannel on his face whilst my wife angled the shower at him. He still had shampoo in his hair so he was obviously too far along to simply get out.
Joe continued to change his mind about things the next day.
We were at the football. If there are two things I love it is educating children and non league football. I see taking Joe to football as a meeting of two beautiful parts of my life.
I am not sure how much Joe enjoys football. He initially presents as keen but very shortly after he will turn his attention to refreshments.
I was similar at his age…to some degree I still think about my stomach a lot of the time.
We were four minutes thirty seconds into the game before Joe switched focus from the home sides attempts at pressing the opposition to his half-time chips.
Joe got his chips.
Joe ate half his chips.
Joe changed his mind about chips “Don’t like chips James”.
I paid three pound for them, therefore I was not going to see two pounds worth consigned to a bin.
Joe does not have much concept of time. I discovered that an interactive egg timer on my phone helped to illustrate my statements of “one more minute Joe” and “there are fifteen minutes until half-time”.
Joe is technologically astute. Somehow he managed to make the egg timer count down twice as fast.
“Half-time now James” I heard as there were still five minutes to play.
I don’t normally push Joe when he changes his mind. Although I wouldn’t mind him telling me who’s at the door when he has said ‘knock knock’ for the fifth time….